


Harry Potter and the Child of Death

by Greengiant89



Series: The Child of Death [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greengiant89/pseuds/Greengiant89
Summary: Harry potter has been chosen by death to be his avatar on earth book 1 and 2





	1. Prologue

A merchant in Baghdad sent his servant to the market to buy provisions, a short while later the servant came back white and trembling, he said “Master, just now when I was in the marketplace, I was jostled by a man in the in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. He looked at me and made a threatening gesture. Now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me”. The merchant lent him his horse, the servant mounted it, and dug his spurs in its flanks and he went as fast as the horse could gallop. The merchant went down to the marketplace and saw Death standing in the crowd and went to Death and said,   
“Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning?” “That was not a threatening gesture” Death said “it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.”

________________________________________

Flames licked the sky, lighting up the quiet street with a gentle orange glow providing a warmth on the cold October night.  
An old man or was he a young man, it was hard to tell, slowly trudged unseen up the street his face showing no emotion yet somehow exhibiting a welcoming and kind aura. Heading towards a beautiful little cottage from which the flames danced. He made his way inside ignoring the body lying in the living room, that would be dealt with later. Up the stairs he went and into a child's bedroom,

“Tom Riddle. It is time for your appointment.”   
His eyes widened in shock, the man who he had come to see was not there. Eyes blackened allowing him to see that which escaped the attention of a normal person, he scanned the room looking for any sign of the missing man. A golden glimmer in the corner caught his attention, making his way over to what he now realised was the form of an unconscious small boy, he knelt down pushing away debris that littered the boy. The child's bright golden aura waved and flickered caressing the air around him yet something was off. A black oily substance was intruding on the golden aura, Seeping into it slowly darkening the gold.

“Oh no you don’t” the man hissed in anger. Reaching out with his own essence he wrapped the black putrid corruption containing the spread but unable to remove it, leaving a lightning bolt mark on the child's forehead. Tired from the exertion needed his form began to shimmer and melt,  
“You have been marked now, Harry Potter. And you Tom Riddle. We shall meet again because nobody misses their appointment with Death.”

________________________________________

A loud roar filled the night air, different from the now familiar creaking of burning wood as a young man astride a huge black motorcycle appeared in the middle of the street from the sky. His eyes full of mischief hiding a tired weariness behind them. His eyes turned to the burning building,  
“Lily, James,” He whispered.   
A solitary tear rolling down his face.   
“Harry”  
Breaking into a sprint the he ran toward the house, past the front door hanging off its hinges collapsing to his knees as he saw his friend lying on the floor, eyes that once sparkled with a smile staring him in the face yet seeing nothing.  
“James no, please no,” he pleaded. Hoping that this was just another elaborate prank, sick maybe but still just a prank. A cry met his ears shifting his attention to the stairs, he made his way towards the second room on the right where he knew his godson would be. He burst into the room, wand in hand, seeing nothing but a pile of robes and ash in one corner of the room, and a great gaping hole in the roof, through which the wind howled and flames danced. A crib lay in the opposite corner lying on its side, its content thrown across the body of a woman he once called his sister. Swallowing back a sob in his throat.   
“Harry, come here harry.”   
Big green eyes turned towards him swimming with tears. A loud crunch from behind caused the him to spin wand drawn a spell on his lips,

“Hagrid,” he cried, “it's you, I thought it was him come back”

A huge man filled the doorway. Ducking down he just about managed to squeeze his bulk into the room.  
“Merlin’s beard Sirius what happened here,”  
“I don’t know Hagrid. But James and lily are gone and Harry here needs me now,”  
“’Fraid not Sirius, Dumbledore sent me for little Harry, he is to go to his aunt now,”  
“No Hagrid, I can't let you do that,” Sirius said, “I am his godfather. He needs me” a tear dripped down his face and into his beard.   
“I am sorry Sirius, Dumbledore’s orders at least for now. Maybe you can go see him later” Hagrid said reaching out to take Harry from the broken man in front of him.   
Sirius squared his shoulder allowing harry to be taken from his hands.   
“Fine Hagrid take him, and take my bike too I won't be needing it I have someone I have to see”  
Turning on the spot the man disappeared with the same crack as before, leaving the giant man and little boy.  
“Come on then you little tyke we best be off.” Straddling the large black bike revving the engine he took off down the street before launching suddenly into the sky leaving nothing but a gently smoldering building and once again a peaceful little village full of sleeping neighbours who knew nothing of the night's activities.


	2. At Home with the Dursleys

Petunia Dursley was normal thank you very much. She had a normal house, lived in a normal street with her normal husband and her normal son. Every morning she would get up and make breakfast for her husband and little diddykins. She would go around the house cleaning and straightening the already immaculate house just in case anyone of any importance might show up. All in all she was happy in her normal little life.   
Well, she supposed if she had to admit to something there was one small thing that bugged her, one tiny insignificant detail about her life she would change. Her nephew, the no good waste of space that even now was sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs like the lazy good for nothing he was.   
It was now 10 years since he had shown up unannounced on her door step, crying and attracting all sorts of disapproving looks from Mrs Murphy the old widow from across the road. She could remember it as if it was yesterday.   
The day had started like any other, she had been in the kitchen feeding a screaming red-faced Dudley who was looking remarkably like a bib wearing pumpkin, Vernon was getting the morning mail when she heard him yelp in surprise and horror and there on the doorstep was the boy crying and whimpering like a pathetic, well, baby with a note in his basket explaining how her sister and rotten husband had gone and got themselves killed by some voldy bloke. Vernon had fought just to abandon him at the nearest fire station but no she had to go and have an honourable moment and take him in for her sister’s sake, it still left a horrid taste in her mouth and not a day had gone by when she wasn’t regretting that stupid decision.

Marching up the boy’s cupboard she bent down and started to hammer on the door sending dust and spiders flying,

“Wake up! Wake up! It is Dudley’s birthday and I will NOT have you ruin it with your selfish sleeping in. He will be awake in an hour so start making breakfast. And do NOT burn the bacon like last time, you know how he likes it.”  
Petunia then stormed off down the hall not waiting for an answer.

Fumbling around in the darkness for his glasses a young boy, skinny for his age, with striking green eyes and a nest of black hair named Harry struggled awake trying to remember the wonderful dream he had been having. From what he could recall it involved motorbikes and flying. He had experienced this dream before but weirdly enough this time there was a new man in it. He couldn’t quite remember what he looked like but yet he still seemed familiar.  
After retrieving his glasses from his little shelf littered with old broken toys of knights and dragons Harry fumbled for the door to his little cupboard before crawling out and clambering to his feet, making his way into the kitchen to start breakfast.

 

“But mum why does he have to come I DON’T want him to come. Can’t we just leave him here?” Dudley whinged, flinging his spoon at Harrys head.  
“Pick that up boy.” Grunted Vernon.  
“What and have him steal my silver. No I don’t think so.”  
And that is how Harry found himself on the way to the zoo squashed between Dudley, taking up both his seat and the majority of Harry’s with his ever-expanding backside and Piers Polkiss, Dudley’s skinny friend who looked remarkably like a rat.   
Not even their constant jabbing and punching could dampen his mood today.

The day however had not turned out to be a good one. The animals had all been acting pretty strange around him. Whenever he had gotten close to them they had all turned and run away to the other end of the enclosure and when he moved round for a closer look they would all run off again. Walking through the aviary all the birds had started screeching which in the end gave harry a massive headache. Soon enough he had been ordered away from the rest of the group by Vernon but told not to wander too far in case he got into mischief. It was however the last stop of the day when things got really weird. Walking towards the reptile house with uncle Vernon’s eyes staring daggers into his back harry had resigned himself to yet another boring time with the animals. There was however one snake in the corner that was asleep so harry was able to a good long look without the snake slithering away.

“Hello,” Harry said “my name is Harry. You are the only animal today who hasn’t rejected me.”  
The snake opened its eyes and without breaking contact raised itself to head height.  
Harry started with surprise as a whispered voice that seemed to come from the serpent said,  
“I guess it is my time then sir. At least I won’t have to stay in this hell any longer.”  
“What! You can talk! What is going on?”  
Harry stood leaning forward against the glass enclosing the snake. His mouth agape in confusion. Why was a snake talking to him? And why had he answered back? This had to be a prank of some kind.  
Suddenly a sharp pain in his kidneys threw him to the floor and when he looked back he could see Dudley’s face pressed up against the glass.  
Harry narrowed his eyes at Dudley in anger, his side still hurting from Dudley’s punch. Without warning Dudley fell forward landing face first into the small pond inside the enclosure as if the glass had disappeared, which of course would be impossible. 

“Thank you sir, for sparing me” the snake hissed. Heaving its body over Dudley and making his way out the reptile house.

A high pitched squeal erupted from Petunia,  
“Dudley. What are you doing in there get out now.”  
Petunia rushed forwards to help retrieve her son, only to run head long into the glass which had reappeared.   
Vernon spun, eyes glaring, at a now smiling harry. His face was furious and Harry could see it turning a bright shade of purple. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears as he advanced up on Harry,  
“What have you done boy. If I find out you caused this you will not see the outside of your cupboard for a week. As it is don’t expect any food today or tomorrow.”

 

As Harry continued to suffer his punishment he thought about the animals and how they would run away from him. The same was happening at home as well. Walking down the street cats would run and dogs would bark.  
It was the middle of the summer holidays and harry was dreading the end. He was being sent to Stonewall High, a local school with a reputation for severe bullying.   
Harry had been sent to the hall to collect the days mail. There was the usual. A postcard from Marge; Vernon’s sister, a bill and – a letter addressed to Harry. He had been sent a letter, no one, ever sends him a letter. Vernon had not reacted well to this in the slightest and had taken the letter off Harry throwing it into the fire. From here it had got even weirder, everyday it seemed more and more of the same letter had arrived with each one being destroyed by Vernon and Petunia, weirdly each letter was accompanied by owl who although looked nervous when near Harry had not fled. Eventually it got too much for Vernon on who packed up the whole family moving them to a small shack in the middle of the North Sea.

It was 11.58 on the 30th of July. Rain was lashing down around the shack as a storm blew overhead and thunder shock harry to his very bones.   
Harry would be turning 11 in just a few minutes. Over the years Harry had wished for many things including toys of his own however this time all he could wish for was a copy of that letter.  
As the clock struck midnight a huge boom sounded around the shack and the door flew off its hinges. A giant of a man stood in the doorway illuminated by the flashes of lightning behind him. His face hidden behind wild scraggly hair and a great bushy beard.   
He turned his head, eyes glinting from behind the forest of hair scanned the room taking in the forms of Dudley now hiding behind his parents, who were themselves cowering in the corner, before coming to rest on the slight form of Harry.


	3. Homeward Bound

The moonlight shone brightly casting the approaching castle in an ethereal glow. Harry could hear splashes around him as his fellow students fidgeted nervously in the rickety old boats transporting them to their new home for the next 10 months.  
Thinking back Harry could only wonder about the series of unusual events that led up to this day.

“All right there ‘Arry, I bet you don’t recognise me do ya? I remember when I could hold you in the palm of my hand.”  
“I’m sorry sir but who are you”  
“Well I’m Hagrid. Keeper of keys and grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”  
From there he had explained to Harry who he was and more importantly what he was. He was a wizard it seemed just like his parents before him had been. Harry could not believe his luck. He had a place at this school called Hogwarts where he could learn to do magic and more importantly be away from the Dursleys.   
The next day he had travelled to London with Hagrid to a place called Diagon Alley. In Harry’s opinion Diagon Alley was better and more fantastical than anything he could dream of. Brightly coloured signs with moving images enticing shoppers to enter and buy their wares. Strange animals squawked in shop windows whilst robes of different shapes and sizes gestured potential customers inside.   
The trip to Gringotts and his vault had made Harry feel a little bit queasy but exhilarated nonetheless and with his pockets fit to burst he began his exploration of the shops followed closely behind by Hagrid. Eventually as the day grew to a close there was only one thing left on his list, a wand. Harry could hardly keep still, he had been looking forward to this all day.   
There it was Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC, a single dusty old wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the window, looking like it hadn’t been touched since the shop first opened. The walls were lined with hundreds of small boxes that looked to be holding up the very ceiling itself. Cobwebs and dust hung from every surface and a distinct smell of mothballs and decay hit Harry’s nose like a sack of bricks.  
“Hello, Helloo.” Harry called his voice echoing around the room. Harry reached out to stroke the boxes.  
“Mr Potter.”   
Harry started, whirling around to face the voice that had come from behind to find himself face to face with an old man.  
“Ah yes, Mr Potter. I have been expecting you. Yes I have.”  
“Mr Ollivander? I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to touch. I am here to get a wand and I was looking at which one to get.”  
“No it’s quite alright my dear boy. And you have it all wrong you don’t choose a wand, no the wand chooses you.”  
At this point Hagrid announced he had to leave to run some errands, leaving harry alone with Mr Ollivander.  
“Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”  
Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.  
“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try- “  
Harry tried – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr Ollivander.  
“No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”  
Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.  
“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”  
(Extract from Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone)  
Harry took to wand from Mr Ollivander, an intense warmth spread through his fingers and partly up his arm before it faltered and stopped.  
“Hmm very curious. Very curious indeed.”  
“What is sir?”  
“The wand. It is almost right, as if it is missing something. It is a broomstick without its brush Mr Potter. It would seem that you are an unusual customer Mr Potter and I don’t mind telling you this is the most fun I have had in years. Follow me Mr Potter we will get you sorted out, and bring that wand with you”  
Mr Ollivander then hurried into the back of the shop leaving Harry standing there as confused as when he first entered the shop.   
“Well Mr Potter are you coming?”  
Harry followed Mr Ollivander into the back room, ducking underneath tools and pots, one grimy window providing just enough light for Harry to see Mr Ollivander with his back hunched throwing an assortment of items left and right muttering to himself. Finally he stood up clutching a small wooden box.   
“I wonder Mr Potter, if this wand might be better for you. This was the first wand I ever made however it is currently unfinished. The wood is taken from and elder tree however I could never find a suitable core. But your affinity with the phoenix feather in the holly wand gives me an idea. The phoenix is the symbol for life eternal and rebirth, whereas the elder tree is a symbol for endings and death and together they may just work. Place the wands next to each other Mr Potter”  
Harry did so laying the wands down on Mr Ollivanders work bench. Frowning in concentration Mr Ollivander waved his wand whilst muttering under his breath. The wands started to vibrate speeding up until the whole room was shaking and tools where falling off the shelves.  
Grunting in exhaustion Mr Ollivander gestured to the wands,  
“Try it now Mr Potter”  
Harry reached for the elder wand now containing the phoenix feather. Now this felt like magic, an intense warmth travelled through his whole body, a warm wind blew around the room making Harrys hair stand on end.  
“Now that, Mr Potter, is a wand.”  
A knock on the window showed Hagrid standing there holding up a large cage containing a beautiful white owl.  
On the way back to the Dursleys Hagrid explained to Harry who he was and why everyone in Diagon Alley where staring at Harry. Apparently as a baby he was responsible for the downfall of a great dark wizard called Voldemort.

The rest of the month passed too slowly for Harry each day dragging by as he waited to leave for Hogwarts.   
Finally September rolled around and Harry was all packed and ready to leave. Uncle Vernon had begrudgingly agreed to drop Harry of at Kings Cross train station on the way to take Dudley to his new school, Smeltings. Upon arriving at Kings Cross the Dursleys had driven off before Harry could even turn around leaving him alone with just his trunk and a large snowy owl, an odd site indeed.   
Unfortunately, Hagrid had neglected to inform Harry on how to access platform 9¾. Harry stood there glancing around in a panic trying to find a solution to his problem. To Harry’s relief, his musings were interrupted by the arrival of a loud herd of redheads. From here he was informed by the matriarch of the family that in order to access the platform he just had to run head long into a perfectly solid looking wall.  
The train ride itself was exciting for Harry. The jerky movement in the old carriages only fuelled his anticipation for the future. He was joined in the compartment young boy called Ron Weasley, one of the red heads from the platform, they spent the train ride joking and gorging themselves on the weirdest selection of sweets that Harry had ever seen.  
After the trip through the countryside the train ground to a halt and Harry stepped off the train, a large cloud of steam covering the platform filling with a variety of students in all shapes and sizes. 

A voice Harry recognised bellowed out from the other end of the platform,  
“Over ‘ere, first years to me!”  
From here the first years were led by Hagrid down to the edge of a large lake and a collection of small boats.


	4. Trolls, Lessons and other Adventures

Harry stood on a great lawn in front of the imposing castle before him, his neck craned back looking up into the clear black September night. Hogwarts lay before him, her spires jutting up into the sky like teeth of a great beast. Students parted around him glancing at him and whispering to themselves as they piled up, clustered around a pair of huge wooden doors carved with intricate wooden figures of wizards, witches and a myriad of magical creatures entwined around each other. To the shock of Harry and the rest of the students the figures started to move, sliding around each other before a clear gap appeared revealing the two doors.   
A shout came from above, making them all jump and look around for the source of the voice.  
“Oi! Up here. Wat’chu lot doin here.” The voice, it turned out, was emanating from the carved figure of a short ugly looking goblin.  
“Well? No loiterers here. Be off with ya.”  
Pushing his way to the front, Hagrid confronted the small angry goblin.  
“Now look ‘ere Stan, these ‘ere are the new students. Now you go get the professor.”  
“My Name Is Not Stan! I am Staanmargh, the Scourge of the Wastelands.”  
“I’ll give you scourge of the wastelands if you don’t hurry up. Now get your wood worm ridden arse back in there and get the professor!”  
Grumbling to himself, the goblin resumed his position in the door before solidifying, presumably to alert whoever was inside to the presence of the students. With a loud creak and a groan, a crack appeared in the middle of the doors as they swung inward. Standing there, in a black floor length set of witch’s robes, was the sternest looking woman Harry had ever seen. Perched on top of her head, at a slightly jaunty angle, sat a traditional witches hat.  
“Thank you Hagrid, I will take it from here. Hello students, my name is Professor McGonagall, and welcome to Hogwarts. Now, follow me I will take you to the Great Hall where you shall be sorted into your houses.”

At this point Professor McGonagall turned on the spot and walked off at a brisk pace, not even looking back to check the students were following her. Harry didn’t dare not to follow the stern woman, along with all the other students, as she delivered what was clearly a repeat of a speech that she delivered every year about the majesty and wonder of Hogwarts and how each school house was important and worthy of respect, but honestly Harry barely caught a single word of it, as he was too busy staring at the castle around him which as more magnificent than he could have imagined. Eventually, McGonagall brought them to a halt in front of yet another set of doors.  
“This is the Great Hall. I shall leave you here for a minute. Do Not wander off.”  
A blonde-haired boy pushed his way to the front before planting himself in front of Harry.  
“I heard rumours that Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts” he sniggered, ”and clearly they are true. I am Draco Malfoy and I can teach you that some wizarding families are better than others.”  
Draco flicked his eyes to Harry’s right, his eyes raking with disgust over Ron. A sneer on his face.  
“You clearly need all the help you can get with choosing who you should befriend.”  
“I think I am perfectly capable of choosing my own friends, thank you very much. I don’t need someone who clearly thinks the sun shines out of his own backside telling me who is and who is not worthy of my friendship.”  
Draco opened his mouth to retort, however before he could Professor McGonagall returned.  
“Please follow me now into the Great Hall.”  
From here, Harry and the rest of the students were led into the Great Hall, past 4 rows of long tables packed with students. In front of them, on a stool, perched a worn and ripped old wizards hat.  
To the surprise of all the new students, a tear appeared in the rim of the hat and formed a mouth which started to sing,  
"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap”

McGonagall stepped up to the stool with a scroll in her hands. From here she called each student’s name in turn where they stepped up to the stool and put the hat on their head. After a few seconds atop each student, the hat called out one of the four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.  
Harry was sorted into Gryffindor. Along with Ron Weasley, the red haired boy that he had met on the train, with whom he was fast becoming friends with. To Ron’s horror a bushy haired girl called Hermione Granger was sorted alongside them and she would not shut up spouting facts left and right.

 

Whispers followed Harry the next day. Walking down the corridors with Ron by his side was proving to be very difficult as people where pushing ever closer to him to try and catch a glimpse of his scar.

“I wish they wouldn’t do this. It is getting on my nerves. Do they not have anything better to do than stare at me?”

“Not really, no. You’re Harry Potter. You’re the most interesting thing to happen to this place since, I dunno forever. Anyway what lessons do we have first?” 

“Erm. We got McGonagall first and potions after. We had best hurry up we don’t want to be late”

Harry and Ron broke into a run through the castle, weaving their way through the mass of bodies in an attempt to make it to the transfiguration classroom before the start of first period. They burst into the room and to their relief there was no professor there yet. Just a class full of students and a stern looking tabby cat.

“Thank God McGonagall isn’t here yet.”

To Harry and Ron’s horror the cat leapt forward, its form twisting and distorting mid leap until stood before them was a rather angry looking Professor McGonagall.

“I would not bet on that just yet Mr Weasley, and it is Professor McGonagall to you. Now go find a seat quickly I have a lesson I am trying to teach here”

“Sorry Professor. May I just say that was bloody awesome!”

“Thank you Mr Weasley now go.”

With that Ron hurried of to find a seat, leaving Harry stood there open mouthed staring at Professor McGonagall.

“Yes Mr Potter?”

“Sorry Professor but how did you do that? It was amazing. Can you teach me?” Harry blurted out.

“That Mr Potter is an ability I have taught myself. It is called the Animagus transformation and you will learn more about it in your 3rd year and no I will not teach you how to do it. It is far too dangerous and I would not recommend it to anyone who does not have at least have a NEWT in transfiguration. Now for the last time go find yourself a seat. We are already 5 minutes into the lesson.”

Taking a seat next to Ron, Harry pulled out his book his interest peaked in the subject. The rest of the lesson ran quite peacefully and Harry found his attention did not waver.

Potions however was a different story. Set down in the dungeons of the school the classroom was a dreary, cold place. A chilling breeze ran through the corridors creating a howl that made Harry shiver just as much as chill. From the moment that harry stepped into the room he could tell that this would be a disaster. Pickled bits of strange animals Harry had never seen floated in jars around the room giving the place a decidedly eerie feeling. Professor Snape billowed into the room, his cloak flying behind him whacking the students down the edge of the aisle around the head. Standing at the front of the room looming over the first row looking like some sort of overgrown bat. Turning his head glaring out across the room his beady black eyes resting on Harry. 

“Ahh Mr Potter, our new celebrity. How nice of you to grace us mortals with your presence. Tell me what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Powdered root of what? Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked just as confused as he did. Hermione the bushy haired know it all’s hand shot into the air.

“No Mr Potter. Well clearly fame isn’t everything. Let’s try again shall we. Where would I find a Bezoar?”

Hermione’s hand was now waving around frantically in the air whilst she was making ooh noises clearly trying to catch Snape’s attention.

“Finally Mr Potter what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“I don’t know sir.”

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

The scratching of quills appeared as students hurried to copy down what professor Snape had said. 

“And that will be 5 points from Gryffindor, for not bothering to open a book and being woefully unprepared.”

Things went from bad to worse for the Gryffindor’s. Snape spent the whole lesson leering at them and muttering about their shoddy work. A boy called Neville, also in Gryffindor, got so nervous that he added porcupine quills too early causing his cauldron to melt into a twisted heap spilling its contents across the floor.

“Idiot boy go now off to hospital wing with you.”

 

It turned out that studying magic was more than just remembering silly words and waving a stick around. At night they had astronomy where they would be crammed into the tallest tower and made to peer through telescopes at the distant planets and note down their location, the reason for this Harry could still not grasp. Then there was herbology out in the greenhouses, three times a week. Here they got to study magical and muggle plants, their use in the wizarding world and how to look after them.   
The most boring class by far was history of magic. This lesson was taught by Professor Binns a ghost who droned on and on about long dead wizards and witches not seeming to realise that the vast majority of the class had in fact fallen asleep.  
The weeks rolled past and Harry soon came to realise that he was not as far behind in his magical schooling that he had once feared. However after coming down to the Gryffindor common room one morning he found something that both frightened and excited him. It seemed that the Gryffindor 1st years would be having their flying lessons with the Slytherins.   
The afternoon of the flying lesson came and soon enough Harry and the rest of his classmates found themselves lined up on the front lawns glaring at the Slytherins stood opposite them and a pile of brooms to the side in various states of disrepair. From the castle walked Madam Hooch, the flying instructor.   
“Right grab a broom everyone.”  
Harry, like the rest of the students rushed forward to the brooms hoping to grab one before all the good ones went.  
“Good now line up and give the command UP! Then mount your broom and wait for me to give you the go ahead to take off.”  
From the field came a chorus of children shouting up and hoping to have the broom rise to their hands. Harry was one of the only few to have his rise 1st time. Once everyone had their broom and was mounted they turned to look at madam hooch expectantly only for Neville, who had been extremely nervous the whole day to start rising into the air at an alarming rate, before slipping and hitting the ground with a sickening crunch.  
“Oh dear a broken arm. Come along now dear let me take you to Madam Pomfrey. If I see any of you so much as touch one of those brooms you will be expelled.”  
At this she whipped out her wand, levitating Neville before leading him into the castle and to the hospital wing.  
“Well look what we have here,” Malfoy send, bending down to pick up a remembrall the Neville had received earlier that day. ”The idiot has left his remembrall behind.”  
“Give it here Malfoy. It doesn’t belong to you.”  
“Nah I don’t think I will.”  
With that Malfoy shot into the air on his broom, Harry following close behind much to the indignation of Hermione.   
“You’ve had your laugh now Malfoy give it back.”  
“If you care so much catch it.” Malfoy shouted whilst throwing the ball as hard as he could. Harry crouched low over the broom shooting forward. Now this was something new, the wind rushing through his hair Harry finally felt truly at home and free. The ball was plummeting towards the earth turning slowly and Harry was following faster than the broom should have been able to. His fist closed around the ball at the same time as he pulled up, his feet skimming the grass narrowly avoiding plummeting face first into the ground. 

In the weeks that followed Harry could not believe his luck. It turned out McGonagall had seen his adventures in the air and had decided, much to Harry’s relief that he was not being kicked out but he was to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He had even been sent his very own broom. A top of he range Nimbus 2000.   
In his anger at the whole Remembrall situation Harry had allowed himself to be conned into a duel with Malfoy who was such a coward that he not shown up. This resulted in Harry, Ron and Hermione nearly being killed by a three headed dog in a room off the third floor corridor. A room which co-incidentally Dumbledore had informed them at the start of term feast, was banned. Now they could clearly see why. Hermione just had to be the one to point out that the dog had been stood on a trapdoor of some kind, as the boys had been too concerned with the excessive number of drooling heads.   
Soon enough the end of October had arrived, and the dog had left their minds. Harry was excited for the Halloween feast as all the decorations were being put into place and it looked amazing. The last lesson of the day was charms with Flitwick and they were studying the levitation charm. Hermione, as usual, was excelling in the lesson, she had already managed to perform the spell correctly and was now berating Ron as she tried to teach him. This of course did not go down well with the proud red head and it ended up with Hermione running off in a flood of tears.  
Eventually the long awaited feast rolled around and Harry for one could not wait to get stuck into the food. Hermione had not shown up for the feast, Harry and Ron had overheard Parvati claiming that she had holed herself up in the girl’s toilets, crying. They glanced at each other, a guilty expression spreading over both their faces. Harry was just reaching for a baked potato when the Great Halls doors burst open and Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and his face white with terror.  
“TROLL - - IN THE DUNGEON! I just thought you ought to know.” He shouted, before collapsing in a dead faint.  
Silence reigned in the hall as everybody came to terms with the sudden announcement. Then like a tidal wave the volume increased as panic began to set in. A huge bang was heard from the teachers table as firecrackers were sent from Dumbledore’s wand in an attempt to restore order.  
“Prefects will lead all students back to their dormitories immediately.”  
Percy, as a prefect, stuck out his chest with a sense of self-importance.  
“Right Gryffindor’s follow me. Come on now step lively nothing bad will happen with me around”  
“I’ve just thought – Hermione.” Harry said turning and grabbing Ron’s arm. “She doesn’t know about the troll. She could just stumble into it. Come on we have to go warn her”  
Ron looked a bit pensive before finally snapping.   
“Fine. But Percy had better not see us and if I get squished by a troll, you are explaining it to my mum.”  
Quickly so as not to be seen the two boys ducked down a side corridor before breaking into a run towards the girls bathroom. Harry just managed to catch Ron from running around a corner and straight into Snape.  
“Where is he headed?” Whispered Ron as they watched him stalk out of site.  
“Third floor I think. Come on we have to get to Hermione, I don’t think that we are far away. Hey Ron can you smell something?”  
“Yh, what is that? It smells like nappy full of burning hair, and shit.”  
Then they heard it, the thud of heavy feet and a scraping sound of a club being dragged along a corridor and the occasional clang as it collided with a suit of armour. The creature stopped at the end of the corridor, sticking its head into a room before grunting and following it into the room.  
Harry and Ron rushed forward slamming the door behind it.  
“Yes!”  
The two boys whooped at their success high fiving as they ran down the corridor however their celebrations where brought to an abrupt halt when from behind them they heard an ear-piercing scream.  
“That was the girl’s bathroom wasn’t it?”  
“Hermione!”  
Wheeling around, they both ran back to the door wrenching it open. In front of them was what looked like a huge grey warty boulder. A tattered loin cloth was slung across its waist hanging down showing the worst builders bum in history. A club the size of a man was currently raised in the air as if it weighed nothing and there standing in front of the troll was a small girl with bushy hair screaming her head off.  
“Quickly distract it. I’ll get Hermione” Harry shouted at Ron whilst throwing bits of broken sink.   
“Oy, ugly over here!” Ron shouted.  
Turning its head it focussed its small beady eyes on Ron, giving time for Harry to dash round and grab Hermione, leading her towards the main door. Harry turned to aid Ron just in time to see the trolls club miss Ron by an inch only for it to impact the wall behind him sending a large chunk of tile spinning into Ron’s head. Ron folded like an accordion, instantly knocked out a small dribble of blood coming out the corner of his mouth.  
“RON!” Harry shouted.  
Harry ran forward to try and drag Ron out of the way when a shadow loomed over him. Harry slowly glanced up to see the troll looking down at him, a stupid grin on its face. The great club held above its head in both hands.   
Harry had just enough time to mutter “Oh Shit” as the club started its descent towards the both of them. Harry closed his eyes waiting for the club but it never came. Instead all Harry could feel was an intense heat. It felt like he was in the middle of a great furnace, being blasted from all sides yet somehow there was no pain. Harry cracked his eyes open. He was still in the bathroom but it was different than before, almost as if someone had dimmed the colours, but that is not what had his attention. The troll was still in front of him, its club in mid swing. He could see that the club was still moving, however to Harry it appeared impossibly slow. A strong wind across his face dragged Harry’s eyes from the troll. His focus was moved to the pitch-black shadows that were ripping the bathroom to pieces, causing everything to disintegrate before his eyes, leaving nothing untouched. From the eye of the storm he watched in horror, unable to move, as the maelstrom wreaked havoc around him and Ron. Nothing was immune from the destruction, not sinks, not toilets, not even the troll. Harry swallowed back his revulsion as great chunks of the troll were ripped from its body and flung against what remained of the walls. Unable to cope Harry’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as sweet Morpheus took him. The last thing Harry saw was Hermione staring at him from just outside the bathroom. Pure terror on her face.


	5. Aftermath

Hermione Granger had always considered herself a rational sort of girl. She believed in the things that she could see, touch and hear, so naturally upon finding there was a whole hidden world out there she was incredibly shocked and needed to learn more. Hermione had been raised with a strong sense of what was right and wrong and so she could tell instantly that what she was seeing was without a doubt and in every sense of the word, wrong.

Hermione was staring into what appeared at first glance to be a war zone. Great crevices had been gouged into the walls and bits of troll were strewn around the room as if a terrible beast had been let loose. She looked closer and there in the middle of this carnage, in the only area untouched, were two small boys, both unconscious to the world.

Hermione was shocked out of her stupor by a loud gasp from behind her. Spinning around she came face to face with Professors McGonagall, Snape, Quirrell and Dumbledore. 

“Miss Granger, what on earth happened here?” Said a horrified sounding Professor McGonagall. 

“I – I’m not sure Professor. The troll came into the bathroom – “

“And why may I ask where you not on your way to your common room like everybody else?” Interrupted Professor Snape.

“I have been in the bathroom all evening Sir. I did not know that I had to go back to my common room.”

A loud plop sounded behind them followed by a groan. It seemed like a portion of the troll’s frontal lobe had become detached from, the ceiling and had landed on Ron’s head waking him up.

“Ugh,” Said Ron, flinging the offending object away. “Bloody Hell! What happened here?”

“Language Mr Weasley, and we were about to ask you that very question. Can you please explain to us how you and Mr Potter are currently lying relatively unharmed in the middle of such carnage?”

“Erm I’m sorry Professors but I have no idea. I hit my head and the next thing I remember is waking up to you all here.”

Ron clambered to his feet and made his way gingerly over to the professors and Hermione.

Ron turned to Professor Dumbledore,

“Can I go to hospital wing please Sir? I’m not feeling too good.” At this Ron’s face turned from white to a vibrant shade of green, before emptying the not insignificant contents of his stomach all over Professor Snape’s shoes.

“You really are a most repulsive boy aren’t you Mr Weasley. Go, now! Off to the hospital wing and take Potter with you” Snape sneered out before turning and limping away, squelching as he went.

“Indeed Mr Weasley.” Said Dumbledore, “I believe you may be suffering from a concussion. I will levitate young Mr Potter and if you could please take him to the hospital wing. We will finish up this conversation when you are feeling better and Harry is awake. Could you please go with them as well, Miss Granger, and have Madam Pomfrey check you over.”

The sound of footsteps faded out leaving Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall alone in the devastated bathroom.

“What do you think happened here Albus? The room has been destroyed, not to mention the troll. No mere 11 year old boy could cause such destruction. I mean is he a danger to the other students, should he be removed from the school?

“Unfortunately Minerva, I have no more idea than you do as to what happened here. Hopefully when Mr Potter wakes up we can get some answers, until then I cannot make any decisions. Come now let’s get this mess cleaned up, then we can go to the hospital wing to see if we can get to the bottom of this and then I think a stiff drink is in order. I hear talk of a lemon drop cocktail, I might see if the house elves can rustle one up.”

With a wave of his wand the room began to reassemble itself. Tiles flew back onto the wall, broken pipes that had been spraying the wall were repaired and troll parts disappeared. 

“You know what Albus, I think I may join you for that drink.”

At this, the two old friends turned and headed off in the direction of the hospital, leaving the girl’s bathroom as good as new.

 

Blackness. Silence and blackness. That is all Harry knew. 

“Am I dead?” Harry thought to himself. ”the last thing I remember was – erm the troll I think. It was just about to squash me, so I must be dead. Well bugger.”

A chuckle behind him startled Harry from his internal monologue.

“No Harry, you are not dead, and I would know.”

Standing there was an old man. Familiar to Harry yet at the same time unknown. He stood there hunched over a small knobbly stick. His eyes white and unseeing yet somehow staring right at Harry.

“Where am I? What am I doing here and who are you? The last thing I remember was trying to get Ron away from the troll.”

“All very good questions, and answers to the all will come in time. Let us start with your first question. 

We are in your mind Harry. When the troll was about to kill you, you tapped into a well of power that you should not have. This power Harry, I must warn you, is not something to use whenever you want. If given half the chance it will overwhelm you and the consequences would be most catastrophic. 

Thankfully, your body is, at this time, too young and ,well, to be frank, weak and feeble to contain the power and so you passed out and ended up here.

As for who I am, well, that is a bit trickier. I have gone by many names throughout history, Azrael, Abbadon, Mot, Yama, Aita, Steve. You, Harry, may call me Death.“

 

Madam Pomfrey was happily going about her day. She had cleaned all the bed pans, had the linens washed and pressed, she even had enough time to replenish her potions store. She was now sat in her office looking forward to a nice quiet day when a noise from the main hospital ruined those plans.

In the main room standing next to one of the beds was one Ronald Weasley having a furiously whispered discussion with Hermione Granger. However, they both quickly became quiet when it became apparent to them that she had arrived.

“Well Mr Weasley, what can I do for you?”

“Professor Dumbledore sent us. He said I may have a concussion or something, not sure about Hermione and, well, Harry is still unconscious.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Into a bed with you – now. And put Mr Potter in one too whilst you’re at it.”

With that, Madam Pomfrey hurried off to her stores to retrieve the potions she needed. 

From inside her stores she called out,

“So tell me what happened?”

“We fought the troll Madam Pomfrey. Well, I distracted it, whilst Harry got Hermione out. After that I’m not sure.” Said Ron.

“You did WHAT?” Madam Pomfrey shrieked. Hurrying back into the room muttering to herself, “of all the irresponsible things to do.

Right this one is for you Mr Weasley, unfortunately it will make you sleep, nasty business a concussion is. 

Good, right, that is him sorted, and now this one for you Miss Granger. Come on now, no whinging, down the hatch. 

Right Mr Potter, let’s see what’s wrong with you then.”

Madam Pomfrey then began waving her wand in an intricate pattern over his chest, causing a slowly swirling mass of blues, yellows and one trail of pure black to appear. She paused, a frown on her face, before repeating the same movements.

“Well that can’t be right.” She whispered to herself. Just then the doors opened and in walked Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall.

“Ahh Headmaster, just in time. I was about to send you a quick message I’m not 100% sure what is going on with Mr Potter here. Come take a look, tell me what you think.”

“Hmm, yes Poppy I see what you mean. Very curious.”

“Sorry Professor and Madam Pomfrey. Erm can I ask, what is curious?”

 

“There is no need to apologise Miss Granger.” Said Dumbledore, a smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes. “You should never feel the need to apologise for wanting to learn more. Now, have you ever heard of the Hippocrates Trail?”

“No Sir, should I have?”

“No Miss Granger, I dare say you wouldn’t have come across this term. Now then, without going into Advanced Magical Theory, the Hippocrates Trail is a simple measurement of the amount of magic flowing through a subject, in this case that would be Mr Potter. So a muggle or someone in a coma would only have a pale blue trail, no other colour, only pale blue. This is because they have ambient magic flowing through them but are unable to access the magic. As you can see Mr Potter has a myriad of different colours as would you and I. These colours are an indication of magic actively flowing through us or as you know it, spells. 

Do you see that black swirl there? Now that is something that is never seen, the nearest to black you will ever find is a dark grey, but more on that in a second, normally grey is only ever found on the very outside of the vortex because the further to the edge the more recently it has affected the person. But with Mr Potter there are colours outside of it. Grey is also found only under very specific conditions, can you hazard a guess Miss Granger? Feel free to reason it out”

“Erm, well, the grey would be the last because you can’t perform anymore spells?”

“Correct Miss Granger, carry on.”

“Well I am not sure then Sir. You said an inability to perform magic was represented by a pale blue.”

“Yes and No. Pale blue is magic at a resting state, and yes it is the colour of those without the ability to perform magic. However grey is the absence of magic. Not even ambient magic. To put it bluntly Miss Granger, grey is death.”


	6. An Avatar Introduced

“Oh Merlin, Harry Potter is dead – I killed him.”  
“Calm yourself Miss Granger, Mr Potter is not dead. As you can see from his Hippocrates Trail he has a steady flow of magic. All be it currently rather weak. In fact, if you look closely you can see his chest rising and falling. So, Madam Pomfrey what can you tell us?”  
“For now, ignoring the anomaly, it seems to be a simple case of magical exhaustion. I have given him some potions and he should be fine by morning. As to what caused the magical exhaustion, I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea. We will just have to wait until he wakes up to tell us what happened. That is if he even knows.  
Right now Professors, off with you. I have patients to attend to, and they need their rest, which they cannot get with you here. You can speak to Mr Potter in the morning.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

“Wait, so I am dead then.”  
“No Mr Potter. As I said you are not dead. I know this may be confusing for you, but please allow me to shed some light on the matter for you. Normally the barrier between the living and the dead restricts my ability to interact with you. However, when unconscious the barrier is weakened, allowing moments like this when we can converse.”  
“Ok, if I am not dead, why have you come for me? What is so special about me? Why do you want to speak to me? Can I speak to my parents?”  
“Slow down Mr Potter. All your questions will be answered in due time.   
Unfortunately, I am unable to provide you with access to your parents. The dead stay dead whilst the living must carry on.   
As for why you. As a child, you were chosen for a task. I cannot interact with the living, however, you can. You were chosen to be my avatar upon this earth. To go where I cannot, and do what I am unable to do. Next time we meet I will be able to discuss further with you your role as my avatar. However, our time ends, I believe you are in fact waking up. Between now and the next time we meet I need you to look up the Emrys Law of Magic. It will aid in my future explanations.”  
Left alone, Harry looked around at his surroundings. It appeared to him that he was in the Gryffindor common however cleaner and without dirty 3rd year socks hanging by the fire. Sat alone on one of the couches, Harry sat there contemplating his conversation with death.

Thoughts bounced around Harrys head, “The avatar of Death? What in the hell does this mean - do I have to kill people?”  
Slowly Harry began to make out the faint sound of voices, almost as if someone was talking to him from just outside the room. The edges of objects began to fade away until all Harry was left with was a blurry mess giving way to what was an increasingly painful headache. 

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

A single ray of morning sun shone through a small gap in the curtains of the infirmary somehow managing to strike exactly between the eyes of one Ronald Weasley. Ron grunted and rolled over in his attempt to escape from the light but it had unfortunately managed to do its job and now Ron was awake.  
“Ugh!” Ron grunted opening his eyes just a crack. To his surprise, there in the bed over, sitting up reading was the bushy head of Hermione Granger.  
“Argghhh!” Shrieked Ron, falling out of bed. “Hermione what the hell are you doing in the boy’s dormitory?”  
“I’ll have you know Ronald, we are currently in the hospital wing. Do you not remember what happened last night – with the troll?”  
“Oh yeah. Are you ok. I mean it didn’t hurt you, did it? I also – you know - want to say sorry for being rude to you and stuff. You’re not a know-it-all, so yeh, sorry.”  
“Ron, its ok. I promise. I know that sometimes I can come across as bossy and a bit of a know-it-all, and I am sorry about that, I will try to be better. Friends?” Hermione held out her hand for Ron.  
“Friends”   
With a shake of their hands they both turned to Harry who was beginning to stir in his sleep.  
“Urgh! My head”  
“Morning Harry”  
“Ron shut up will you, my head is killing me.” Harry groaned.  
“Harry! You’re awake.”  
“Oh, hi Hermione. How are you doing? You’re not hurt are you or you Ron either?”  
“Nah mate, just a bump on my head.”  
“I’m good too, thank you for saving me - both of you. It means a lot to me. Look I am sorry for being so bossy to you both. I would love it if we could try and become friends.”  
“I would like that too.”  
“Good. Erm Harry do you remember what happened?”  
A noise from behind disrupted them from their conversation. Madam Pomfrey walked into the room.  
“Good morning Mr Potter. I am glad to see that you are back with us. Please hold your answer for now, the headmaster would very much like to talk to you. You two however are free to go to breakfast.”  
“But Madam Pom-, “  
“No Buts, off with you now. Not you Mr Potter you wait here. I will just go and send for the headmaster. In the meantime, I need you to take these potions.”  
With that Madam Pomfrey walked back into her office to summon Professor Dumbledore. Ron and Hermione left for breakfast but not without squeezing a promise from Harry that he would tell them what happened later.  
Harry lay there in his hospital bed, a particularly annoying spring digging into his lower back, that no matter how much he fidgeted he could not ease.  
Laying there lost in his own thoughts he did not hear the headmaster enter the room.   
“Ahh Harry, I hope that you are feeling better this morning. I see you, like many others have been unlucky enough to receive the bed with the sticky outey springs. I believe Madam Pomfrey does it on purpose sometimes. Here let me help you.”  
Professor Dumbledore pulled out his wand, giving it a small flick. Harrys sighed sinking into the now much more comfortable bed. Professor Dumbledore waved his wand again conjuring a bean bag chair in which to sit.  
“Ahh I meant to conjure a small armchair. You will forgive me my mind is on many things today, I am sure you can understand. Oh well I suppose this will have to do.”  
With a small flump Professor Dumbledore plopped himself down in the chair instantly tipping back slightly before correcting himself.  
“Now then Harry.” Professor Dumbledore said, staring at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “What can you tell me about the events that transpired in the girls toilets last night?”  
Harry thought quickly to himself about what and how much he should tell the professor. He knew that telling the professor or anybody the truth about what the being claiming to be death told harry he was, would be a very bad thing. Throwing up questions Harry had no answer for. However Harry could tell a half truth in regards to what happened with the troll.  
“Honestly Professor, I’m not entirely sure. I saw the troll about to hit Ron so I went to grab him. That is pretty much the last thing I remember. After that it is just waking up here.”  
“Hmm well it seems to me that your magic lashed out in order to protect you, however unfortunately violently it seemed to be. To take a life, even that of a troll can have unforeseen consequences on one’s mental health. I trust Harry, that you will not go looking for this power again. We do not know what it is or if it can even be controlled. It could be dangerous not only to those around you but to yourself.”   
“I promise sir.”  
“Now with that out the way I must say I was highly impressed with the courage you showed and your desire to help your fellow classmates. I think 30 points are in order for Gryffindor here. Now you rest up and hopefully Madam Pomphrey will release you in time for dinner tonight, word on the grapevine is that there will be a spectacular steak and kidney pudding followed by a lovely spotted dick.”  
With a grunt Professor Dumbledore tried to swing himself out of his beanbag only to roll back again and tipping to the side. Heaving himself to his feet before adjusting his glasses and rearranging his robes.  
“I had best be off now then, with what little dignity I have left after that graceful show.”  
Harry couldn’t help himself any longer and burst out laughing.  
“Well they do say laughter is the best medicine.” And with that Dumbledore headed out the room and back to his office.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

That night, Professor Dumbledore sat in his office staring blankly at the wall in front of him, his mind rolling over and over what Harry said in the hospital wing. After using a bit of passive legilimency he could tell that Harry was hiding something, just not what. Did he know what that mysterious power was, and if so was the power needed to defeat Voldemort not as he thought previously, love, but was it instead this unknown power. He would need to think on this further.  
His thoughts where interrupted by a squawk from his faithful phoenix companion Fawkes, followed a few seconds later by a knock on his office door.   
“Come in. Ahh hello Minerva. What can I do for you?”  
“Good evening Albus. Might I presume that you have already spoken to Mr Potter?”  
“Indeed I have.”  
“Well…Is he safe to have around the other students? Do I need to do anything?”  
“No Minerva. I believe that he is a perfectly safe young gentleman. It seems that the event in the girl’s toilets was nothing more than a case of severe accidental magic. However, I would recommend making sure that he avoids circumstances that put his life in danger. Now then, I have a lovely bottle of Ogden’s 50yr old calling my name and I have always found it tastes better with a companion.”  
“Fine Albus, however I will be keeping an eye on the boy. And yes, I would love a wee dram or two.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

As promised Harry was released in time for dinner. Upon entering the great hall, the room went silent as all eyes turned to him. Walking nervously between the tables he made his way to Ron and Hermione and sat down.  
“Guys, why is everyone staring at me?”  
“I’m just spit balling here, but it could be the rumour that a whopping great troll entered the castle which you shredded to bits. Talking of which, you promised to tell us what happened” Ron replied jokingly.  
“Oh yeah. Look I am really hungry. Can we talk about this later?”  
“Fine Harry,” Replied Hermione, “However don’t think we will let this slide.”  
Eventually, the rest of the school lost interest in staring at Harry, and the room once again rose in volume as hundreds of voices competed to be heard. Harry however sat there in silence and despite his claims about being hungry, he spent most of the meal pushing a single new potato around his plate. He was unable to take his mind off that being. How could it have spoken to Harry? Was his imagination running wild? He didn’t think so, but to claim to be death? It couldn’t be real, could it? No, it must have been a delusion brought on by his unconscious mind. There was no such thing as the embodiment of death, let alone the avatar of death. He was dreading his chat with Ron and Hermione later. What would they think about him? And most importantly what should he tell them, was he going to lose both his best friend and the one other friend he had, so soon after they had become friends.  
With this thought fresh in Harry’s mind he made his way out of the great hall, followed closely by Ron and Hermione.


End file.
